


little touch

by rain_at_dawn



Series: chiaroscuro [4]
Category: SHINee
Genre: Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Mirror Sex, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Fingering, non-celebrity AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:20:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27077155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rain_at_dawn/pseuds/rain_at_dawn
Summary: Junghee drops by Gwiboon's workplace to try on a few things. Ostensibly.
Relationships: Kim Gwiboon/Kim Junghee, Kim Jonghyun/Kim Kibum | Key
Series: chiaroscuro [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951579
Comments: 8
Kudos: 10
Collections: Kinktober Bingo 2020





	little touch

The door to the dressing cubicle opens, Junghee glimpses red hair briefly in the mirror while sliding the satin chemise over her head, and then the door shuts and the lock slides into place, and something else clicks in her head, now that Gwiboon’s made her entrance with that sly little smirk on her face.

Gwiboon is taller than her, even without the modest three-inch heels she has to wear for work at the boutique where Junghee sometimes drop by, even when there’s no sale. On an aluminum peg fixed to the wall of the cubicle is Junghee’s sweater, pink and fluffy and handmade by her mother, at least three sizes too big for her and just the way Junghee likes. On Gwiboon’s face, there’s the shadow of a hunger gleaming through her dark pupils, sharpening her breath that ghosts along Junghee’s exposed nape.

Her hands are almost the same size as Junghee’s, except her fingers are much longer and thinner. Fingers fit for a navigator, Junghee has always thought, guided by both an inquisitiveness and expectation of what could come if (and when, always when) they found the exact spot they were seeking. Gwiboon’s hands circle Junghee’s waist until they come to rest at her sides, cinching the material of the garment so that it stretches snugly over the skin on her belly and hips.

“Halfway there,” Gwiboon murmurs, warm and sweet in the shell of her ear. “You should try wearing this without the jeans.”

Junghee considers that she should. Especially if Gwiboon thinks it’s a good idea.

“Gwiboonie…” she whispers low enough that her voice doesn’t leave the safety of the cubicle, quiet enough to not entirely betray the chaos of her imagination that builds each time Gwiboon’s touch glides over her. Her hands almost appear to glow smooth and white under the overhead fluorescent lights, a stunning contrast to the chemise’s wine red and Junghee’s black jeans.

Gwiboon flicks open the button of her fly with one slight, deft movement (“Kim Gwiboon, able to remove women’s clothing with a flick of her wrist,” Junghee would joke, in and out of the bedroom, even in the most unlikely places for party tricks, where Gwiboon could still work magic with her tongue and fingers.).

Her fingertips are cool when they slip underneath the cotton of Junghee’s panties. These are a new pair, freshly laundered and clean from a legacy of Gwiboon’s hands nearly ripping them off during times like these, in fits of need. Junghee gazes back at her mirrored counterpart standing before them, watching her eyes glaze over when Gwiboon finds what she’s been looking for, right where she knew it would be. She’s an easy catch like that, Junghee knows that of herself, though she wonders who could blame her with an expert hunter of Gwiboon’s caliber.

With a crook of her fingers, Gwiboon has her keeling against the glass, their breaths fogging up their reflections as they lose themselves to each other. Junghee squeezes her eyes shut as Gwiboon slides her fingers over that secret place, the surge of her climax lighting up the dark like the sun.

She opens them and the world seems brand new, the red of the chemise and Gwiboon’s hair brighter, the taste of herself on Gwiboon’s fingers as they slide into her mouth to be licked clean. The next time Junghee catches a glimpse of them both in the mirror, Gwiboon is staring back at her, expectant.

Junghee doesn’t nod, but turns around to face Gwiboon, licking her lips in preparation as she pushes her to sit on the wooden bench just opposite the mirror. The front of Gwiboon’s shirt has come slightly untucked and rumpled; when Junghee presses her hands to smooth the creases, she feels the quiver, the subtle little nubs of pert nipples underneath the flimsy lace bra. But there’ll be time for those later, not when Junghee has another part of Gwiboon in mind; it’d be criminal of her to leave that one particular place unattended.

The material of Gwiboon’s skirt is made of some stiff black polyester-like material, but it slides up her thighs easily enough when she pulls at the hem. The rest is a familiar enough trail for Junghee to follow, enough so that Gwiboon opens up like a flower. As soon as Junghee slides the thin strip of cloth aside to brush her lips against her, Gwiboon has her hand on the back of her neck, propelling her forward as Junghee kneels closer.

Junghee wastes no time, probing as deep as she can go, pulling off all the little patterns she knows Gwiboon likes. The world shrinks again, to the size of the space she covers with her tongue and, occasionally, her lips when she kisses it the same way she’d do with Gwiboon’s mouth. Above her, Gwiboon’s voice sounds close to strung out, stuttering breathlessly over the reminder that she has two minutes before her break ends.

To make the most of it, she nearly swallows up Gwiboon, or as much of her she can get, as much as she can inhale and taste. Junghee’s hands clutch at Gwiboon’s thighs on either side of her, hard enough that she hopes her nails leave marks. Gwiboon isn’t wearing her usual stockings; her bare skin smells like peach-scented lotion and the barest trace of musk that Junghee always somehow manages to pick up, even after she’s showered.

Especially after she’s showered. Gwiboonie’s going to need one after she’s done with her.

Whether or not they’re at the point where Gwiboon’s absence has been noticed by her shift supervisor, Junghee’s guaranteed that she’s more than made up for any upcoming reprimands with the way the hand running through her hair closes into a fist as Gwiboon comes, hot and sticky and sweet in her mouth. Junghee already knows that by the time she pulls herself away, Gwiboon’s lips will meet hers (far from the last time), smearing her lipstick, marking her place. 

“Same time tomorrow?”


End file.
